


A Gentleman

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Series: Tom Hiddleston Drabbles and Ficlets [5]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, implied smut if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: A short tale of how an awkward run-in, spilled water, and hot chocolate turn strangers into something more.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Series: Tom Hiddleston Drabbles and Ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517372
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	A Gentleman

Tom Hiddleston was nothing if not a gentleman.

So, when he bumped into you while on his morning run, spilling your water all over the two of you - which was _not_ pleasant in the chilled autumnal air, he had to offer some form of recompense for his misdeeds. On that occasion, that took the form of a cup of hot chocolate purchased at a small coffee shop just around the corner. The beverage replaced that which he had spilled, and you spent the time it took for your clothing to dry chatting away over the steaming mugs of decadent sweetness.

And when you were both standing up to part ways after hours lost to delight conversation, he couldn’t help but politely say, “I would very much like to see you again.”

You paused in tugging on your coat, eyes wide as you took in the sheepishly smiling giant of a man before you. “I’m sorry?”

He came around behind you, holding onto your coat to further help you slide into it. Once it was done, he patted your shoulder gently before standing before you once again. The simple act of kindness lit through you, warming you far more thoroughly than your cup of cocoa could ever manage. “Nothing too serious or formal. But it was simply nice to have a riveting conversation with such attractive company. I’d like to see you again, continue this later, if that’s all right with you.”

Your stammered agreement made such raw happiness shine through his sky blue eyes that any nerves you’d had were quickly soothed. You’d do anything to make that beautiful man smile, even if it plucked at the carefully guarded strings of your heart.

And that was how your friendship with Tom began. Over the next several weeks, you met up for countless coffee dates, quick lunches, bites of dessert after he was finished at the stage door, and aimless meanderings through a park nearby your apartment. Your comfort level grew with him, any anxieties set at ease by his ready smile and catching sunny attitude. When your attraction only increased as your unease decreased, butterflies multiplying rapidly in your belly and your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to take his hand, you simply ignored it.

This was _Tom Hiddleston_, and you were, well, _you_. Someone who, on the grand scheme of things, couldn’t dare to believe that you were on the same level as him in all aspects of life. How could a regular person compete with everything that the world had to offer such a brilliant, handsome, talented man? It was best to take what you could get - his friendship - and be grateful for it.

You were. You were unendingly grateful for it, and for him. Despite the anxiety that crawled beneath your skin when you waited for him to come over to your apartment for the first time, you were excited. Everything had been thoroughly deep-cleaned in a whirlwind of activity that admittedly made you a little sore from all the elbow grease required, but it’d be worth it. Tom had mentioned he was homesick, frankly missing any sort of comfortable living situation that wasn’t a hotel room, and you had offered an evening watching movies at your place as an alternative. Sure, it was a Monday night because his schedule was hectic and crammed, but it was still exciting.

Your heart surged into your throat when steady knocks sounded on your door. Shoving it back where it belonged, you ushered him inside out of the light snowfall that had been traveled in with the latest cold front.

“Hello, darling. Thank you so much for having me,” he greeted you warmly, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks before shucking off his worn black peacoat, hanging it on a hook beside yours.

Ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks, you gestured toward the couch as you trotted off quickly to the kitchen. “I’ll grab the snacks if you want to get settled. I already pulled up the movies, so you can just pick which one you prefer.”

When you came back bearing a tray of two steaming cups of hot chocolate and a plate of brownies, he quickly rose from where he perched on the couch to take it from you. He carefully placed it on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch, stretching his arm across the back of it and spreading his knees wide. It left you no choice but to brush your thigh against his when you sat down, almost tucked into his side from how much room he took up. Not that your racing heart was complaining.

Not much was said for quite a while. You both sat in companionable silence, drinking your cocoa and watching the movie he had selected. Only when the cocoa was gone did he speak up, interrupting your occasional glance at his carved jawline to look at you. “I hate to ask, but do you have a blanket? I have been so cold with the change in the weather.”

Apologies erupted from you so quickly that they were basically nonsense, and you jumped up from the couch to run back to your bedroom, grabbing the large throw blanket that you had spread out on your bed to add another layer of warmth.

“I’m so sorry about that. The blasted heating isn’t the best in here. I’m afraid this is the only one I have,” you said in a flurry, coming back and draping the blanket over his lean form.

He grinned genially, lifting the corner. “Mind if I leech a bit of your body heat as well?”

How could you say no to that? Unable to meet his earnest gaze, you curled up against him on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you and pressing your side into his. He adjusted the blanket around you both before dropping his arm over your shoulders. It was heavy and warm and you were enveloped in the heady masculinity of his cologne. How something that smelled so clean could bring you to think such dirty thoughts was beyond you.

“Better?” you asked, hating how your voice cracked as you tilted your head back to look at him.

He directed his heart-stopping smile in your direction, all white teeth and crinkles around his eyes that made your hands shake. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with his brow furrowed in concern.

“Are your hands cold? You can hold my hand. It’s okay.” His arm moved beneath the blanket until you felt his fingers graze over your arm, trailing down until they slipped passed your wrist and laced with yours effortlessly.

Speech was honestly beyond you at that point, so you nodded, turning back to the television so you wouldn’t get lost completely in the depths of his searching gaze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t have been able to recount the details of the remainder of the movie. You were too busy focusing on the man beside you, his breaths moving his chest against the back of your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against your knuckle, the absentminded scratch of his index finger over the fabric covering your shoulder.

“Well, that was an excellent film in far better company. Thank you for having me,” Tom said quietly, speaking as if he were saying his goodbyes for the evening, although he hadn’t moved a muscle.

You dared to look at him. This close his breath fanned across your face, chocolatey sweet and tinged with something uniquely him that you longed to taste to fully unravel. This close you were hit with the full force of his beauty, the elegant slope of his nose, the razor-sharp cheekbones that drew your attention to the soft pink lips of his expressive mouth. You couldn’t think of anything clever to say in response, so instead, you blurted out what had been playing on your mind for the entirety of your friendship, “I still don’t believe that you’re real sometimes.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. The hand that held yours ghosted up to your chin, finger and thumb holding the skin there lightly to keep you from turning away. “This is real. I’m real.”

Who moved first, you weren’t sure. But in the next breath your lips were working together, teasing and testing the waters until you found a rhythm that more closely matched the pent-up passion that pounded in your chest. Your fingers found a home in the soft knit of his sweater, and his hand cupped your cheek while his arm only pulled you more tightly against him. It was sweet and addicting and you soon knew the taste of him - luscious, tantalizing, altogether too much and not nearly enough.

Your name upon his lips was a prayer when he finally broke the kiss, his nose nudging along yours as your eyes fluttered open. His pupils were blown and you felt the raggedness of his breath beneath your splayed fingers.

You _wanted_. You wanted so badly that it ached in your core and stole your breath. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t as if you had spoken on the subject at all. But he had all of the strings to your heart in his clutches, and he tugged on them once again when he answered your unasked questions with the playful nip of his teeth at your neck.

He was a gentleman, after all, and a gentleman did not leave his lady wanting.


End file.
